The Scars of Angels
by sociallyunacceptablerealities
Summary: Six years after the events of City of Heavenly Fire, a sudden invasion cuts Simon and Isabelle's wedding short. A curse is wrought. A rift is healed. All Edom breaks loose.
1. Chapter 1: Dancing

Chapter 1: Magnus

Max could very well be the best dressed child in the history of children. Magnus surveyed his little son critically. Yes, the miniature gold coloured suit was spectacular. He mentally complimented himself on the subtle green embroidery that brought out the golden - green specks that pooled in Max's eyes.

Max Michael Lightwood - Bane himself sat on the floor, pulling at the sequinned bow. "Look at my shiny shoes Magnus!" Magnus picked his son up and twirled him around. "You are stunning, little man. Would you like to dance?" Max giggled. " Like you and Dad dance?" Magnus suddenly recalled the Christmas Party where he had painstakingly tried to teach Alec to waltz. Apparently shadowhunters were not trained in dancing...

Magnus bit back a grin. "Maybe not but we can still be absolutely brilliant and dazzle the world with our dance moves and sparkle." Max clapped. "Ok then." He crawled to his feet. Magnus arrested the movement with a flick of his hand. Blue light swirled around Max as he was lifted off the ground. He hovered there, looking thoughtfully down towards Magnus. " Dad said not to do that last time you did it. " Magnus smiled. "Your father won't know unless you tell him." Max took a step in midair and stayed aloft. " I thought we were going to dance. "

Magnus crossed his arms. "Well would you like to tap dance or hip hop or tan..."

The door to the loft rattled and opened. Alec Lightwood opened his mouth to say something, most likely a greeting and froze as his eyes landed on the three year old boy levitating in midair. He turned to face Magnus. "Magnus, what is Max wearing!" He looked closely at Magnus. "For that matter why are you wearing a suit?" He pointed to Magnus's outfit, a silky black suit with shoulder pads. Magnus scoffed in mock offence. "It's from Calvin Klein!"

Alec shook his head. "Stop levitating him! What if he falls!" Max peered down and waved. "Hi Dad!" "He's dressed for the occasion!" Magnus proclaimed. A look of confusion crossed Alec's face. "Isabelle's wedding!" He said impatiently. Alec hit his forehead against his palm. "By the Angel... what time is it?" Magnus glanced at his watch. "You have about thirty minutes if we portal. He gave Alec a shove towards the bathroom. "Now get dressed!"


	2. Chapter 2: The Princess

Isabelle sat by the window of the Inquisitor's house in Idris. She watched as a light mist began to fall, turning the sky from faded blue to a dark, patchy grey. She cursed silently. When it rained, everything seemed dead, sad and useless and that it should rain today... "Isabelle." Mayrse called. "Stop mooning out the window." Isabelle spun in her seat to face her mother and caught her breath. By the Angel, corset dresses were tight. She pulled at the lace in annoyance. "Stupid dress." "Stop that". Mayrse chided. "You'll tear it." She smiled. "Come and see yourself in the mirror."

Isabelle barley stopped herself from rolling her eyes. She had tried the dress on before, in front of Mayrse in her room in the Institute. "I've seen myself in a dress before mom." Mayrse pulled gently at her arm. "Izzy, you look lovely. Come!" She pointed to the corner. "See how wonderful you look.

Isabelle got up from her seat on the futon and stalked to the long silver mirror. She looked into the mirror and gasped, all the air sucked out of her lungs.

Her dark, inky hair had been raised into an elegant style by Mayrse's skillful fingers. Her shoulders were starkly white, standing out from the low neckline. A string of runes ran along her collarbones: promise, prosperity, loyal to. The corset curved at the waist and her skirt belled out, filmy and light. Almost invisible runes were picked out along the gauze.

She was beautiful, stunning like a soap opera star. Her eyes seemed both soft and fierce at the same time.

Her throat constricted. "I look like a princess." Mayrse placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are a princess. Your my little princess." Her mother raised her hand upwards, letting the light dance across the sliver Lovelace family ring. "You will be Simon's queen." Her eyes shone. Isabelle felt the tears sting her own eyes. "Mom..." Mayrse's arms went around her, holding her closer. "Izzy, your all grown up. My little girl, my only daughter..."

Isabelle let her mother take her, hold onto her. Mayrse, her mother who had sung her to sleep when she was small and afraid of the dark. Who had bandaged up her cuts and made her spaghetti on rainy days."

Jace's blonde head appeared in the doorframe "Can I join the sob-fest?"

Mayrse released her arms from around her. "Jace!" Isabelle exclaimed. "Can't you see we're busy?" Jace nodded. "I can see that Izzy. I can also see that you are two seconds from sobbing your heart out. I feel that it is my duty to stop this!" Isabelle picked up hairpin and threw it at him. "Shut up Jace." Mayrse laughed a little wistfully. "I'll miss your bickering." "Mom!" she protested. Jace folded his arms. "This is proof that my services are needed." Isabelle gave him a shove. "Shut up!" He stepped back and grinned. "Alright." He looked her up and down. "You are beautiful Isabelle."

"I'll second that." Robert Lightwood stood barrel chested in the doorway. He had appeared with that catlike grace he always seemed to move with and had crept up on them, as silent as a shadow.

Isabelle saw her mother tense. It had been her father's suggestion that she, Mayrse and Jace stay at the Inquisitor's house the night of the wedding instead of portaling to Idris from the Institute. She had agreed to it. At least her dad was trying. But ever since they had greeted each other at the front door yesterday, her mother and her father had been avoiding each other.

"She looks like you did, Mayrse." Robert said. Isabelle sucked in her breath. "Prettier still." Mayrse was suddenly very occupied with fixing the veil firmly on her head. "Isabelle, stay still."

Robert cleared his throat. "We should be going."


	3. Chapter 3: In Haste

"Simon..." The voice said. Someone was shaking at his shoulder. "Go away." Simon moaned and pulled his blanket up to his head. "Wake up!" The hand hit him gently around the face. He mumbled "Five minutes" and turned around. Most likely it was Isabelle trying to make pancakes in his little kitchen. He grinned at the thought of her, wonderful Isabelle with her hair half up and a plate of burned, ashy almost-pancakes in one hand. The person poked him, sharply in the ribs. He clutched at his chest. "Go away Isabelle."

"Izzy's not here."

At that, Simon blinked and rolled over.

Clary Fairchild was perched on his bed, her red hair curling around her face. She looked almost exactly like she had when they were both children, when he'd woken up in the early dawn and found her smiling at him. She was also wearing a long, silky blue dress that swirled tightly around her ankles. He figured she must be going to a party. Probably with Jace, hopelessly blonde Jace. "Hi Simon!" Simon rubbed his eyes. "What are you doing here? What's the party"

His Parabatai gave him a pitying look. "Do you remember why Isabelle isn't here?" Simon stared at her for a minute. Really it seemed more like ten. Then the awful truth settled in. "Oh God!" He put his head in his hands.

He was marrying Isabelle Lightwood. Amazing, incredible, beautiful, wonderful Isabelle Lightwood. Today. At eleven thirty. In Idris. Clary nodded. "Yup. I'm here to draw us a portal so we can get to Idris." She scanned him from head to toe. "You'd better get dressed."

He rolled out of his bed. Clary snickered. "Nice pyjamas." Simon glanced down. He was shirtless and wore only a pair of green briefs with yellow and gold polka dots. A Christmas present from Magnus and Alec. "Very funny Clary."

She waved her fingers at him as her grabbed his ceremonial gear from the closet and ran into the bathroom. Then he actually looked at the gear.

It didn't look anything like ordinary gear.

Ordinary gear consisted of a acid resistant, light type of jacket with tight pants made of the same material, boots and a belt for all your stabby, deadly weapons. Simon vaguely remembered Jace handing his ceremonial gear to him in the entrance on the Institute. "You'd better try it on beforehand," He'd warned.

Simon stared at the heap of buckles and straps that crossed and crisscrossed a heavy silvery - black robe. Beside it was a pair of thick black trousers with wide bottoms, inscribed with runes and... a puffy, lacy, thin white shirt with innumerable buttons. Simon ran his hand through his messy brown hair. "Great!" He groaned. He picked up the shirt with one hand.

Twenty minutes later, he sat, sweaty on his bathroom floor. His robe was tangled in the buttons of the shirt which were also caught in his hair. He heard Clary knock on the bathroom door. "Simon!" She called. "Simon we have to go!" Simon put his head in his hands, or he tried to, which was hard as most of his limbs were tangled in his clothes. "I don't know how to put this thing on!" There was a pause. "Can I come in?" Simon sighed inwardly. "Fine."

He unlocked the bathroom door.

Clary took one look at Simon in his puffy pants with his robes and shirt hopelessly tangled in his hair and burst out laughing.

"Come here." She giggled. Simon sighed again. What a wonderful way to prepare for his wedding! Sitting on a bathroom floor while his Parabatai giggled and freed him from his fashion prison.


	4. Chapter 4: Sunlight

Alec watched as a portal shimmered into existence outside the Hall of Accords. He saw Simon and Clary appear and Simon stumble down the length of the hall, into the back room. His little son pointed, squirming in his seat. "Dad, it's Uncle Simon! He's wearing a Star Wars robe! Where's his lightsaber?"

Alec sighed. He knew it had been a bad idea when Magnus had rented the entire star wars series and insisted on watching it with Max. "I don't think that's a Star Wars costume, Max."

Max shook his head, his tiny blue horns poking through his carefully gelled hair. "No, Uncle Simon is Palpatine! He's just not wearing his hood.

Alec turned to face Magnus. "This is all your fault." Magnus grinned. "Simon won't have to buy a Halloween costume this year." Alec frowned. "Halloween? All Hallows Eve? Why would you celebrate All Hallows Eve? In fact why would anyone celebrate All Hallows Eve?"

Magnus propped his chin up in one hand. "I forgot that most Shadowhunters have as much knowledge of the modern world as Mozart."

Alec threw his hands up. "I do not..."

"Dad didn't even know what youtube was." Max chimed in.

They high-fived.

"Point proven." Magnus declared and pecked Alec on the cheek.

"Gross." Max covered his eyes with his tiny blue fingers.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clary and Jace. He smirked. "Next time, look at your Uncle Jace." Max twisted. "Where! Uncle Jace said he would let me play in the Institute training room." Magnus frowned. "He said what?"

Just then, Jace slid into the seat beside them. "Anytime, little guy." He reached over Alec to ruffle Max's curly blue hair, completely wrecking the hair gel effect. Magnus scowled. "That took time!"

"Where's Clary?" Alec asked.

Jace shrugged. "With either Isabelle or Simon. Maybe both. Wedding stuff."

Max broke free of Alec's grip and hugged Jace. "Are you and Auntie Clary ever going to get married?"

Jace turned red. "Ummm maybe..."

Max let go of Jace and sat back in his seat. "Auntie Clary is so pretty. She buys me comic books. They're funny. He paused for a moment. "Aunt Isabelle is pretty too. She's funny. Especially when she tries to make pancakes. Her pancakes don't taste like pancakes though."

Magnus made a spluttering noise. "Is that why the kitchen countertops were covered in syrup the last time she baby sat you?"

Max nodded, gravely. "I put chocolate, whipped cream and maple syrup on my pancake. It was good."

Alec sighed.

Max opened his mouth to say something, and stopped.

The guard towers had begun to glow an ethereal gold.

The Consul, Jia Penhallow's voice rang out above the crowd, speaking the ancient rituals of marriage and union. Isabelle, his little sister appeared on Robert's arm. Her dress trailed after her in a river of gold. Isabelle's eyes were brighter still, shining with light.

" _Set me as a seal upon thine heart, as a seal upon thine arm. For love is as strong as death."_

Alec saw Simon's eyes meet Isabelle's. Their gaze caught like a beam of sunlight, burning as bright as a million stars.

The Consul offered them each a stele. Isabelle raised the tip to Simon's heart.

The Hall exploded.


	5. Chapter 5: Demons

Demons, more then Simon had ever seen in his whole short life erupted from the floorboards.

There was a collective scream from the crowd. The light of hundreds of seraph blades lit the air as all around the altar, Shadowhunters and Downworlders alike tried to fend of the tide of demons

Simon whipped his dagger from his gear and turned to face the Raum demon, advancing upon him. Beside him Isabelle had uncoiled her electrum whip from under the sleeves of her wedding dress. With a flick of her wrist, her whip arced through the air, a curl of light. The Raum demon lurched closer, its slimy tentacles waving and splattering green poison everywhere. Simon reared backwards but Isabelle was quicker. She leapt into the air and brought her whip down with a sickening snap.

The demon's head rolled across the floor like a bowling ball before evaporating into dust and smoke. Isabelle lashed her whip at the ground, eyes gleaming. "That's for ruining my wedding."

Simon felt a grin creeping up his face. That was Isabelle. Amazing, demon beheading warrior goddess.

"Thanks."

Isabelle shot him a look. "Can we save this for when we are not surrounded by demons, close to our untimely death?"

"I don't know," He smirked. "Our deaths are probably long overdue, actually."

Simon scanned the room. In the middle of the battle, Alec had drawn his seraph blade and was laying waste left and right. His legs were outstretched, his back was towards Max and Magnus in a protective stance. And Magnus.

Isabelle noticed it at almost the exact time he did. "What's wrong with Magnus!" She hissed

A little apart from Alec, Magnus was standing as if paralyzed, a look of indescribable shock and fear on his face.

Simon stared. In all his life, he had never seen anyone look so, so... utterly destroyed. And Magnus Bane, High Warlock was almost 400. To make him look like that...

"Something is very wrong."

Isabelle looked like she was ready to hit him over the head with her veil. "I know that!"

He almost didn't notice when the next Shax demon nearly bit off his head.

He turned just in time to see Clary reach him through the crowd and stab the demon through it's snake-like body with her dagger, Heosphoros. Behind her, Jace raised his head. "They're not stopping!" Jace shouted. "They just keep coming"

Clary shook her head, her hair flying in all directions."How the bloody hell could demons have entered Alicante! The only time that's happened in a thousand years is when Sebastian took down the wards with his own blood!"

Isabelle slammed her whip against the marble floor. "All of you shut up! There's something wrong with Magnus."

Clary s peered across the room. Her artist's eye spotted them before anyone else. "There!" She pointed.

Jace glanced past her, to where Alec was. His mouth tightened. "I'm going to help them." He took a step forward.

Everything suddenly came to a screeching halt. It was as if time had stopped in its tracks.

Blue light burst from center of the hall, illuminating the marble pillars in a harsh, blue light.

Magnus had raised his hands above his head. Sizzling blue fire crackled along his arms, wrapping his body in icy began to chant.

 _"Daemones autem tradita in nomine Patris mei eieci te de sanguine. Eieci te profundum inferni, quas eieci te virtutem sanguinis"_

Simon felt a chill run down his back. A memory surfaced in the back of his mind. A shifting shadow, coalescing into the shape of a man with jagged golden teeth and infernal, slit pupiled eyes, the color of a night sky in hell.

 _Asmodeus_

Magnus's words rang across the room, bouncing off every pilliar, radiatingg waves of power. Then, the writhing mass of demons seemed to multiply a hundredfold, stretching and elongating like shadows. There was a terrible sucking noise that grew into a shriek of agony and every demon in sight imploded with a puff of dust.

Hot, choking air filled the hall, as cruel as the air in Edom.

Simon opened his eyes.

Magnus stood in the centre of the room. His skin was drained of all color, as white as that of a newborn vampire's. He swayed as if even standing was an effort. Simon saw Alec reach out for him and Magnus grasped his hand, clearly struggling to stay upright.

There was a stunned silence. Magnus's voice rang out through the Hall of Accords.

"Clary, make a portal."

Close to Simon, Clary pulled a stele from under her dress, her hands shaking. She raised the tip to the wall and traced a rune. A matrix of blue lines spiraled from the stele, forming into a portal.

Everyone in the room, including Simon, stared at Magnus again. He was clutching on to Alec, their hands interlocked in a death grip of love and shared pain.

"Go to the New York Institute. Everyone go. It isn't safe."

Clary gestured to the portal.

"You heard him! Go!"


	6. Chapter 6: The Grace of Falling Stars

Alec felt it before it happened. He'd felt it coming as his fingers intertwined with Magnus's, felt it as he had supported Magnus, barely able to stand.

He saw it as it happened. He watched.

Magnus's body curved in an unearthly, graceful arch, all shadows and fire, outlined by the pale light that wavered through the towers of the institute.

"Alec!"

The voice seemed to come from far away.

Somehow, Alec had gotten to his knees, though he had no recollection of moving.

Magnus's face was draining of colour, turning to the colour of sand. He had never seen Magnus look so completely still. Magnus who always buzzed with life, who had lived for hundreds of years and carved a bright shining path through the ages.

Never in his wildest nightmares, did Magnus die before he did.

His fingers fumbled at Magnus's wrist. Alec pressed down, willing for the slow ebbing of his energy that meant that Magnus was relying on him, sharing his strength. There was nothing.

Somewhere behind him, they had gathered around him. Mayors and Robert holding onto Max. Jace, Isabelle, Clary, Simon, pale blue warlock Caterina Loss.

"Somebody call the Silent Brothers.

The words seemed too loud, to harsh. Alec turned his head around to face the crowd behind him. "Somebody do something!"

"I'm not sure we can do anything."

Caterina's face had gone slack, a look of infinite pain and sorrow crossing her face. The look of someone who had faced death many many times and was seeing it again.

"When our kind use too much magic, we drain ourselves of energy. Eventually it drains us of our..." Caterina's voice broke. "Our life force." She knelt down beside him, running a hand across Magnus's face, raising her fingers to his wrist. Her eyes filled with tears. "I'm so sorry."

The words refused to register in Alec's head. This was not possible. Magnus was eternal. Magnus was forever. It simply wasn't possible for Magnus to die.

"Magnus!"

The cry sliced through the air like a knife. Max broke free of Mayrse's hold and ran to Alec, his arms stretched wide.

His eyes were raised to face his, questioning and full of innocent fear.

"Dad, why won't Magnus wake up! Dad!"

Alec reached out his arms and cradled his son's head close to him as if by doing so, the agony in his chest would stop.

"Max, Max, I'm so sorry. I can't wake him up, I can't, I can't!"

"No. NO!"

Max fought free of his arms and threw his tiny, boyish form over Magnus's still figure. He closed his eyes. "Magnus WILL wake up. He will. I know it."

Alec watched as Max pressed.

Blue light sparked from Max's fingertips, spreading through Magnus's chest and waving through his body like liquid energy.

Magnus gasped and his eyes shot open, blazing with ethereal gold.

"Max?"

Max encompassed him in a bear hug, tears falling across his cheeks. "Magnus, you have to promise me you will never ever go to sleep again like that and not wake up!" Magnus winced, his hands falling to his side. "Alexander?"

The ice that had filled in his heart melted. Alec reached down and suddenly his lips were too full to speak.


	7. Chapter 7: Everlasting Love

_Hold me close until the dawn breaks, casting pure light across the sky. Push the clouds aside for me, let me see the brightness of the day. Tell me not to be afraid of what's to come for you are by my side. Steady my breath and help me stand. For you are my stalwart, my strength, my everlasting love._

 _\- Sally A. Cain, **Everlasting Love**_

Isabelle was silent the entire cab ride back to Brooklyn. Simon couldn't blame her. It wasn't every day demons crashed your wedding and tried to eat all your guests. Isabelle's wedding dress lay in a crumpled heap on the cab floor, torn and stained with ichor along with Simon's gear. As the night sky was speckled with stars, Simon tried to catch her eye. Isabelle seemed not to notice.

He shuddered as he remembered that moment of silence when it had seemed Magnus would never wake up. Alec and Max's anguished faces. That beautiful and yet terrible light that had burned through Max's body, glowing a harsh blue in the sunlight.

The cab screeched up to Simon's apartment. Isabelle jumped out of the cab, leaving him to stumble after her, carrying all her belongings. She stalked up to the elevator and jammed the button with Simon behind her. The elevator pinged twice and Isabelle stalked out.

With a sigh, he fumbled for his keys and shoved them into his lock. The apartment door clicked open.

Simon shut the door with a click and threw the remainder of Isabelle's dress and his own ceremonial gear onto the kitchen counter. Isabelle had already kicked off her shoes and stretched herself out on the couch. She had already apparently located the bottle of vodka he kept behind the TV and was drinking it straight out of the bottle. Simon decided that this was not a good idea and snatched the bottle out of her hand.

"Simon, give it back!"

Simon placed the bottle on the coffee table and shook his head. Isabelle grabbed the bottle from behind him and took several long gulps before he managed to wrestle it from her. "By the Angel Izzy, I'm so sorry."

Simon sat down beside her and Isabelle looked pointedly away. Gently, Simon spun her back towards him. He wove his fingers through her wrecked hair, cupping the back of her head. Slowly, her lips met his. He could taste her on his lips, her skin on his "I love you. I love you so much Izzy. Isabelle Lightwood-Lovelace" He said. He felt Isabelle's slow laugh vibrate through his body. He kissed her again and again promises to always love her, to hold her, to be there for her for all his life. Simon wrapped his arms around her and tilted her chin up to his. Isabelle's cheeks were wet. "Izzy, Izzy." Simon said. He held her close to him, repeating her name over and over as her tears fell. "My Isabelle. Isabelle. Izzy,"

Isabelle shifted. "I'm sorry." Her voice was slurred. Simon held her closer. "You're allowed to cry Izzy." He said, fiercely. You don't always have to be such…" He trailed off. Isabelle lifted her head to look into his eyes. "Such a what." She murmured. "Such an amazing warrior goddess. You're allowed to be normal too, Isabelle." Isabelle laughed. "Since when have we been normal?" "Normal is overrated."

He untangled himself from Isabelle and got off the couch. Isabelle stood up and swayed precariously. Simon felt a wave of anxiety wash over him. "Are you ok?"

Isabelle sat back down. "I don't think getting up is a good idea. She whispered. Simon seated himself again. "I'm fine with sitting. Sitting is great. Really. I love sitting. I plan on taking a career in siting." Isabelle giggled. "I don't want to spend the entire night on a cheap couch Simon." Simon snorted. "In my defence, this is not a bad couch. It's a fairly decent couch, even if I did get it off Craigslist. Isabelle made a face. "That sounds like a disease. Or a demon." Simon smiled. "I'll tell you later.

He stood up, Isabelle in his arms, and walked into his room. It was dark, lit only by the traffic lights outside his window. Simon laid Isabelle on the bed. He thanked the angel that he had had the forethought to purchase a king size bed off eBay a month ago. His instincts had been right. Simon felt obscurely proud. Isabelle sank into the pillows with a slight "oomph" sound. Her hair fell over the the pillow like heavy black ribbons. Simon leaned down and wrapped his blanket around her, tucking the sheets around her waist.

Isabelle smiled. "Remember that time you spent the entire night telling me the plot of Star Wars?"

Simon lay down beside her. "You know, most people don't just sleep on their wedding night." He teased. She rolled towards him. "I'm sorry I'm drunk." She mumbled. "That's okay." Simon smiled to himself in the dark. "You're mine. You don't have to apologize. And if all you want to do is sleep, it's fine with me" Isabelle let out a breath. "Hold me, Simon. Just for a little while." Simon wrapped his arms around her. "I'll hold you for as long as you want me to. Possible even longer than you want me to. I'll hold you until you're begging me to let you go."

Isabelle closed her eyes. "I'll never want you to let me go. Now shut up."


	8. Chapter 8: Allies

It had taken almost half a day before all the guests had departed from the New York Institute. Robert wasn't sure why he had stayed. Stayed to help, stayed to reassure and repress the panic. It had felt right though. Right that he should be there, in the place where he had lived for so much of his empty life.

The Institute was deserted now, Simon and Isabelle had gone off together, hand in hand. Alec, Magnus and Max had disappeared in a swirling portal along with Clary and Jace. The wind swept through the short, bare grass, sending dirt flying.

Mayors stood at the opposite side of the lawn, her black hair falling from it's tight knot to swirl around her face. He felt the familiar pang in his chest. Regret mingled with guilt.

He crossed the space with a few steps. Robert did not know why he wanted to say what he was going to, like he did not know why he did so many things. But again there was that feeling of "this is the right thing to do."

"I'm sorry." Robert said. There was a long pause. "About what?" Mayrse blinked. Her tone was icy. Robert swallowed. "That we're here together right now. I know it's awkward for you. It's awkward for me too. I'm sorry Isabelle's wedding turned out to be a disaster, there are many things I'm sorry about Mayrse." Mayrse blinked again, long spidery lashes veiling her black eyes.

Robert coughed, releasing the terrible choked feeling from his throat. He had waited years to say what he was going to say. It had never been the right time. Robert wasn't sure it would ever be the right time. "I'm sorry I didn't love you Mayrse." Robert blurted. "I'm sorry for not loving you Mayrse, as I believe you once loved me. I'm sorry for leading you on and not ending it when I had the chance…"

Robert took a breath. He looked up at her. Mayrse's eyes were closed.

He stood for a second as all the pain and guilt of many years washed over him. "I'm sorry about what I did…that thing…you know…"

Mayrse's eyes shot open in surprise at the mention of his infidelity. "Yes, by the Angel, that thing. I'm so sorry for so many other things but I swear, I swear on the Angel that I will try to make it up to you. I know you can never forgive…" Robert turned and swiped his hand viciously across his face.

Robert felt her hand on his arm, long fingers calloused with the scars of war. He spun to face Mayrse. She seemed young and old and tired all at once.

"Robert." She sighed. "I have forgiven you." Robert stared at her in bewilderment. He felt suddenly very young and inexperienced. "What?" Mayrse looked exasperated. "I forgive you." Robert continued to stare in dazed silence. " It's foolish blame someone for not loving you and… somehow, I'm even a little glad you never ended it. If you had, we wouldn't have Isabelle, or Alec or have taken care of Jace and we wouldn't have had…"

It was Mayrse's turn to look away. He saw a tear trickle down her face. Robert felt his heart shatter all over again. "Max." He breathed. We would never have had those years with Max." There was a silence, filled with unspoken grief and sorrow. Robert took a deep breath. "I'm sorry we were never meant to be, Mayrse, but from now… can we consider ourselves friends?" Mayrse gave a short puff of air.

Robert tried again. "If not friends, allies then." Mayrse looked at him, the smallest smile lingering at the edges of her mouth. He could tell the word sounded right to her as well. Strange how living with someone for many years let you read them.

"Allies. I can bear that."

Robert reached out a hand and Mayrse shook it. "Allies.


End file.
